


What A Feeling

by alex4968



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Fingering, Laughter During Sex, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Top Harry, Uni AU, bc thats important, exercise science student harry, med student louis, well as close to it as I could get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex4968/pseuds/alex4968
Summary: “You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Louis says with a slightly forced laugh.“Yeah, cause there’s nothin’ to tell!” Liam replies with a grin, getting a cackle from Niall, and making Louis’ face flame. He can feel Harry’s soft chuckle, just because their bodies are touching.“Like you have room to talk, mate.” He bites back, but all three of them are still laughing. He really needs to get laid.





	What A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is my first attempt at a PWP and also the shortest fic I've ever written. I've never written one before so the fact that I told [Fer](http://babeharrie.tumblr.com//) I'd write this for her in April and it's now June can be excused, right? Probably not. I would procrastinate my entire existence if I could. Oh well, I hope you enjoy and I'm sorry if it's awful!

Some soap opera is playing on the small telly braced up on Harry’s wall, and the woman’s acting is so bad that the scene is almost funny. There’s loud, dramatic piano music filling the small room around them, and Harry is dramatically mouthing the words that the woman is saying, hand over his heart as he does, giving a clue to exactly how often he watches these kinds of shows.

Louis thinks her husband might have just died, or gone missing, or something equally as tragic, but he’s not paying attention. Maybe he was at the beginning, or maybe he was at least trying to _pretend_ he was, but he’s not. Not to her, anyway.

Instead, the buzz of alcohol running through his veins is making watching Harry much more interesting than anything else. Really, he’s just been sipping at his half-lemonade-half-whiskey mindlessly for the last two hours, trying to chip in to the conversation around him as much as possible, but he’s exhausted. Both physically and mentally. Exhausted and buzzed has never been much of a good combination for him, so he tries to act as normal as possible.

The best part about their Saturday get togethers is that no one really asks questions. They all have busy lives and they all have other commitments besides one another, but as long as they all have this short amount of time to come together and hang out as best mates at least once a week, their group is maintained.

It’s become more of a tradition than anything else. Every Saturday is lads night and secretly the one night a week that Louis never fails to look forward to. Despite the strong urge to just keel over and take a long nap, he’s happy to be surrounded by his boys and the energy they bring. Just the four of them all holed up inside of Harry’s dingy little flat, drinking shitty booze and watching even shitter late night telly; but it’s the one night a week that all of them have clear schedules and have time to just enjoy one another’s company.

He’s just taken a massive test the day before, one that he’d managed to pull a solid two all nighters to study for, and now his eyes will barely stay open. The thing is, though, he doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to lose out on yet another lads night this year because of the insanity of tests that are thrown at him from all directions from his professors.

“I swear, this fuckin’ channel gets worse and worse every time you turn it on, mate.” Niall complains from where he’s sitting across the room in the half-broken sofa that, if he moves just a little too far to the left, is sure to break. His loud voice cutting through the relative silence of the room is what snaps Louis out of his daze and wakes him up a bit more. “Why don’t we just play some fifa?”

“You lot broke my xbox the last time we played fifa, remember?” Harry asks with a playful scoff, making Niall grumble something likely sarcastic under his breath. He loves his friends, he does, but the mixture of the ever-present London humidity and the alcohol is making him even more sleepy, to the point where he’s dozing off against Harry’s shoulder. Harry, luckily, doesn’t seem to mind.

“You can go to sleep, Lou. It’s fine.” Harry whispers to him a few moments later, and that’s all the invitation he needs before he’s passed out right against Harry’s shoulder.

 

He wakes a while later, and Liam is missing. A glance over to the clock says that he’s been asleep for just under an hour, and it’s around the time that Liam usually ends up leaving anyway.

“Tommo! You’re up!” Niall says, the excitement in his voice way too much for the lateness of this hour.

“Just barely. What did I miss?”

“I just got a call from this bird I’ve been messing around with the last few weeks, right? And she called and asked if I wanted to come by.” Louis is not nearly conscious enough to talk about sex. Not at all. But he knows he needs to play along for the sake of his friends anyway.

Liam comes out of the loo and plops back down on the sofa where he’d been right before he’d fallen asleep, so his theory of the other man having left is sent out the window. It manages to make him smile, though, because the four of them all together is always much better than just three of them.

Harry has his arms around him, the same way that he always does, but this time it feels different. It feels strange to be the oldest one in the room while still knowing he’s got the least experience of all of them. It feels even weirder to be next to the one person who he could see himself sleeping with while talking about sleeping with other people. “So, Lou, when was the last time you got laid?” Liam asks. He’s entirely sloshed, more than usual, so he knows that the question isn’t laced with any malice, but it’s still awkward.

It wasn’t so bad when it was just Niall talking about his little sort-of-girl-friend. Niall always seems to have a girl on his arm; it’s just a part of who he is. Louis, however, doesn’t have much of a sexlife, if he can really say he has one at all. He’s fairly certain his friends know this by now, after so many years of knowing one another, yet the question still gets brought up every once and a while.

He never has just out-right told them he’s only been laid once, though, so he can take most of the blame.

“You know I don’t kiss and tell, mate.” He says with a slightly forced laugh.

“Yea, cause there’s nothin’ to tell!” Liam says with a grin, getting a cackle from Niall, and making Louis’ face flame. He can feel Harry’s soft chuckle, just because their bodies are touching.

“Like you have room to talk, mate.” He bites back, but all three of them are still laughing enough to make him pout. It’s embarrassing, is what it is, but how his friends find time to get laid as regularly as they claim to makes his head spin. As a med student, he’s studying so often that he can barely manage time to eat, let alone go and pull. All of them are in uni still and none of them exactly have the amount of free time they’d like, so it’s frustrating.

He certainly won’t deny that.

“Well tell us then, Lou. When was the last time?” Harry asks, a teasing quirk in his eyebrow that tells he _knows_ that it’s been far too long. “As a med student you must know that having some sex can be an incredible stress relief, right?”

“You’re all rude is what you are.” He says and gets another round of laughter. He knows they’re all just teasing and mean no harm by it – but he really does want to get laid. After four years of nothing, he thinks it’s well past due to get _something,_ right?  

The conversation kind of dies out after that, and eventually Liam does get up to leave. They all say their goodbyes, just like usual, and Niall follows soon after.

“Guess I should go, then.” He says, standing up with a yawn.

“You can stay if you want. You know the trains aren’t running this late and a cab’s probably expensive.” That’s the only downside to being the oldest, he thinks. He doesn’t live in the student accommodations anymore, like the three of his mates, and his flat is a solid half hour away by a cab. He probably should have thought all of that out ahead of time, before he took a nap, but staying with Harry doesn’t seem that bad.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks, haz.” He sits down on the sofa right beside Harry’s bed and passes out barely ten minutes later.

 

When Louis wakes the next morning headache free, he decides to take that as a small victory of the day. Harry is still snoring softly, sprawled out like a star on the bed, so Louis decides he should do something nice for his friend since he let him stay over. He figures he could attempt to make breakfast, but Harry would much likely rather not have his kitchen burn down. So, instead he opts to just make some tea.

The thing about the student accommodation kitchens is that they can’t _really_ be considered kitchens. Rather, just a small burner, a microwave, and a mini-fridge placed in proximity of each other that kind of makes up a kitchen. Kind of. So he figures not cooking is probably he best bet as he digs the kettle out of the top shelf and fills it with water.

Harry comes out as soon as the steam starts blowing from the kettle, the noise loud in the small space, and Louis pours both of them a cup and makes it how Harry likes it for him. They sit together in silence for a while before Louis finally breaks it with a sigh.

“God, I’ve been thinking about what Niall said. It really has been way too long since I’ve gotten laid.” He says, sighing softly and leaning his head down against the table. He’s lucky that he’s closest with Harry. He’s known him since he started primary school when their mums were best friends and, of course, got their wish with their sons being best friends, too.

“How long?” Harry asks, an eyebrow quirked. It’s just – it’s embarrassing to talk about it. Especially when he knows that Harry gets laid regularly, boys and girls alike.

“Remember Janet Woodrow from when I was still taking my A-Levels?”

“ _Really?”_ Harry asks, a shocked expression on his face. “It’s really been four years?”

“Well, yeah. I have no time to do anything except study and sleep, really. Plus, now that I kind of actually do want to go out and get laid, I really am entirely clueless on what to do. Anyone would expect a twenty-one year old bloke to know his way around someone’s bits, but I’m just as clueless now as I was with Janet.”

“I mean… I could… show you, if you wanted?” That’s the only thing Harry has to say before he suddenly feels a lot more – tense. If tense is really the right word. He can’t exactly pinpoint what he’s feeling other than _shock._ He’s been at least mildly interested in Harry since they were teenagers, and now that the offer is there – he can’t _not_ say no. Right?

“I mean – if you want?”

“Believe it or not, Lou, I do find you attractive.”

“I find you attractive too, Harry. I just – wouldn’t it be weird?”

“Why would it be weird? Just a mate doing a mate a favor, right? If that’s all you want, I don’t mind.”

“Well, yeah. That sounds – really nice, then.” Harry grins and leans forward, his movements confident where Louis’ are hesitant. Their lips come together and it’s all – perfect. Harry kisses like he talks, slow and sensual, each movement done for a reason, with meaning. It serves to make Louis’ knees feel weak almost immediately as Harry’s hands move to grab his arse.

“Gonna take you to bed, make you come on my fingers and my tongue, alright, love? Show you how to take someone apart piece by piece.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry. You’re filthy.” He says in response, but Harry just kisses him again, holding him up like he weighs nothing as he carries him back to the bed.

As soon as he’s laid down, he’s stripping his shirt off, not really wanting to waste any time for him to let himself start to think. If he starts to think about all of this he’ll only end up getting his emotions involved and ruin all of it. He really should just let himself enjoy this without thinking about it and he knows that, so that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“When did you get so buff?” He asks with a snort. “Like, less than a few years ago you were eating five cheese toasties a day and watching Friends on my couch.”

“Well, what’s the point of doing exercise science if I’m not going to use it?” Harry retorts with an eyeroll. It all feels so normal, all of a sudden. Like they’re still just friends, but friends who might start seeing each other naked every once and a while.

They haven’t even really touched each other and he already wants this to happen again, wants Harry in his bed more than once.

Harry strips his clothes off first, being the nudist that he is, and goes to undo the button on Louis’ trousers, peeling the tight material away with a laugh. “I think you could have found a tighter pair if you tried, Lou. I’m a little disappointed.” He laughs again, but instead of a laugh, it comes out more as a snort. An ugly noise that makes his face flame with embarrassment all over again. “You’re adorable. Hot. Beautiful. Sexy.” Harry says, a dimpled grin on his face.

“Good thing this is a lesson on the actual sex instead of the dirty talk, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t think you’re going to care much about what I’m saying when you’re begging for my cock, eh?”

“God would you just shut up already and get your fingers in me, please?” This makes Harry laugh again as he tosses the material of his pants away right alongside his trousers.

“Alright, roll over for me, love.” Louis does what he’s told easily and rolls over so that he’s laying on his stomach. Harry doesn’t do anything a moment and it makes heat swirl in his stomach, the idea of Harry’s eyes raking over his body making him feel better than he has in a while.

But then Harry’s weight is on the bed behind him and his hands are kneeding the flesh of his arse as a few little kisses are pressed against the small of his back. And then – that’s the only warning he gets before Harry is spreading his cheeks and licking a long stripe from his balls all the way across his hole.

“Oh, _fuck.”_ Louis says on an exhale. It’s all so overwhelming, each little kitten lick of Harry’s tongue against his rim, the way the rough hairs on his face rub against his skin. He’s fisting the sheets beneath him, little tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Harry’s hand is firm against the small of his back, holding him down and keeping him exactly where he wants him. It’s entirely overwhelming in the best way.

“Think you can stay still for me, love?” Harry says, taking his hand away from the small of his back. He nods, tries to keep himself still as best as he can.

“Yeah, yeah. Just feels good.” He says, a whine high in his throat when Harry immediately goes back to licking around his rim. He hears the sound of a cap being opened somewhere in the room and his heart rate picks up again, beyond excited for whatever else Harry wants to do to him.  It’s barely a moment before he feels a finger prodding at his entrance right beside Harry’s tongue, and it’s so much, too much, but still not enough all the same. “Fuck,” He says again, all of the vocabulary in his brain suddenly reduced to one word as Harry presses his finger in to the knuckle.

He’s fingered himself before. Of course he has, but Harry’s fingers are so much longer, thicker, and they feel so much better inside of him. The way the digit is moving inside of him along with his tongue and the harsh rub of hair against his arse – its all bringing him so much closer to that edge that he’s been so desperate to get to for far too long.

“Close, Haz, close.” He whines and bites his lip.

His knees are trembling already, and he claws harder at the sheets, trying his hardest to stay still for Harry. He wants to grind back on Harry’s finger, wants to just _take_ and get himself off, but he can’t. Something about how Harry had just asked so nicely for him to stay still is forcing him to just _listen._

Harry presses a second finger in right beside the second, licks his finger around and between the digits, crooked right against his prostate, and that’s all it takes. His muscles tense as he comes, Harry’s name on his lips.

He falls limp against the bed, his face buried in one of the pillows and he hears a grunt behind him before he turns just in time to see the way Harry’s face pinches together as he comes, his eyebrows knit tightly. Finally, Harry collapses right beside him and places a little kiss right against his lips.

“I think you wrecked me.” He says with a little laugh, throwing his arm over his face. “I’ll never move again, I’m dead. You killed me, Styles.”

“I could get used to having you in my bed.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Im actually really not good at writing smut I don't think so pls be gentle with me  
> [my tumblr](http://louis-love.tumblr.com/)


End file.
